


seal our lips until we're found

by feralphoenix



Series: you can only use your own [8]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, DFAB Chara, Disabled Character, Explicit Sexual Content, Other, Size Difference, Spoilers, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 21:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7590880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralphoenix/pseuds/feralphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>This isn’t about comparing anatomy; it’s about Chara being able to feel safe in their own living space, in their own skin. It doesn’t come easy for them, and you know why that is and how hard they’ve had to fight to get to this point.</i>
</p><p>Or: Asriel and Chara explore their new privacy.</p><p>(A side story to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7508707">you in your veil and your pale white dress</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	seal our lips until we're found

**Author's Note:**

> _(color spills from the bed_ – though it’s getting cold and we’re growing older)
> 
>  
> 
> this is a side story set shortly after the end of [you in your veil and your pale white dress](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7508707). it's not Absolutely plot-relevant so you can skip it if you'd like, but it's got enough good character and relationship beats that i thought it merited being added after all. on the other hand, you will probably want to read the aforementioned fic for context.
> 
> chara and asriel are both 30.
> 
> warnings for brief discussion of past child abuse and other fun chara-related topics (most specifically we have a few nongraphic references to hair pulling).
> 
> wrt the "disabled character" tag, chara has chronic pain (among various other mild-to-moderate chronic health issues) as a result of their poisoning. see [somebody out there needs you](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5431163) for details.
> 
> as for the "xeno" tag, this is pretty softcore for xeno because boss monsters are still mammals, but years and years in homestuck fandom have predispositioned me to be like "two different species having the Exact Same Junk is unrealistic and boring" so... the joy of interspecies relationships... s..hrugs.....

You wake slowly, hazily, warm and loose and limber, contentment still humming through your body from your nose to your toes.

It’s early—it’s far too early for you to have to worry about getting up, but that suits you perfectly fine. Yesterday was so busy—the ceremony, the party, seeing your parents off—and almost as soon as you and Chara were finally alone together in the house, you fell into bed to enjoy your wedding night.

It’s been a little over a decade since your first time, of course; your bodies are nearly as familiar to each other as your own by now. But the hours before you curled up together and fell asleep were magical all the same, and thinking of Chara arched over you, straddling your lap, the fit lines of their body clean in the lamplight—of Chara soft and pliant under you, splayed out vulnerable and trusting, smiling, the red of their eyes dark and intense—makes you blush beneath your fur and sends warmth coursing to your loins.

You reach out over the mattress, thinking to pull them in close and cuddle them if they’re still sleeping, maybe pick up where you left off if they’re awake—but your hand just rakes across rumpled sheets. Frowning, you crack one eye open, then the other, and then sit up.

Chara’s not in the room. Their clothes are still all strewn across the floor, you note; sitting up and turning your head to look throughout the bedroom brings to your attention that the door is hanging open by just a few inches.

You scoot to the edge of the bed, stretch out your legs, and set your feet on the floor. There’s a moment or two where you consider grabbing a shirt, but—it’s the middle of the night. You’re not going to be getting any guests at this hour. And… besides, your parents have moved out as of yesterday afternoon, you remember suddenly. Chara’s seen you half-hard about a million times; you don’t have to get embarrassed if it’s just them. So you stand up decisively, and when you venture into the hall you do so naked.

Your parents’ rooms both have closed doors and there’s nothing left in either of them, so you only give that end of the hall a cursory glance, but there’s faint light coming from the direction of the foyer, so you try that direction.

Low lights have been turned on in both the living room and the kitchen. You find Chara in the latter, reclining against the counter with a steaming teacup in their hands; there’s a probably-still-full teapot sitting on the range, and tools for looseleaf scattered about. There’s a brace on Chara’s left knee and another one on their right ankle, and their jewelry—locket and rings—shines in the lamplight as yours does, but that’s all they’re wearing.

They’re casual in their nakedness in a way that seems oddly natural. Some part of you is still struggling to reconcile the previously unconnected concepts of Chara’s nude body and the family kitchen, but: Here they are, raising their head to look at you now, dark red hair spilling over their pale shoulders, the teacup and their hands around it casting a soft shadow along their small breasts.

“Ree,” they say, maybe a little bit surprised, and then they smile, brow furrowing. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“You didn’t,” you say, picking a spot on the counter near them and away from the range to lean on. “I just got up and noticed that you weren’t there, so I wanted to see where you went.”

They shake their head, hair dancing about their face. “I woke up and realized my throat was dry, so I decided to make tea.” Here they pause, leaning back, their expression thoughtful. “And it seemed as good a time as any to try to get used to us being alone here.”

“Hmm,” you say, encouraging, and help yourself to a cup of tea. It’s still hot, so you take slow, small sips to try to avoid burning your tongue.

“It’s so, so strange, the thought that all of this is ours alone now,” they say, shifting their cup to one hand so that they may drift their fingertips across the counter. “I miss Asgore and Toriel already. But there will be advantages to this too, and this seemed the best way to make myself understand that all these rooms are our private space now, not just the bedroom, so.”

You get the feeling you kind of understand that—seeing Chara naked here has forcibly converted your mental concept of the kitchen, after all—but you still grin at them. “Oh?”

“I don’t have it in me to walk around even just in my underwear,” Chara says. “I only undressed even partially in front of other people when I had to—for medical examinations, for clothes fittings. Nakedness is on its own level of I-can’t-take-being-this-exposed. I mean,” they go on with a smile, “I hardly have your modesty fluff.”

They gesture, and you look down at yourself, bemused. As they say, your fur is a little longer in the vicinity of your groin, especially around your sheath. “I don’t think it does all that much for modesty, though,” you tell them, grinning, indicating with open palms the pink slit in your sheath and the tip of your cock pushing it open.

Chara nods gracefully. “It is a bit more effective when you’re not hard, it’s true,” they say. “I still think it does more good than mine.”

The dark, slightly coarse red-brown hair between their legs is definitely sparser than your fur, but it occurs to you that they do have the advantage of their soft and intimate bits being set a bit further back than yours. You won’t argue it, though. This isn’t about comparing anatomy; it’s about Chara being able to feel safe in their own living space, in their own skin. It doesn’t come easy for them, and you know why that is and how hard they’ve had to fight to get to this point.

“So how are you doing, then, on this first intrepid expedition?” you ask, reaching out to rest your hand on their shoulder.

They lean into your warmth and tilt their head, considering. “It feels a bit strange,” they admit readily. “But I think it would feel stranger if it weren’t the kitchen.”

“There you go with your kitchen fixation again,” you say, grinning. You’re never going to be able to fully understand Chara’s love-hate relationship with this room; at least it’s enough for them that you acknowledge and respect that they’ve got strong, complicated feelings. But when it’s things like this, it’s sort of cute. “I’m glad it’s coming in handy for you now.”

Chara laughs as if you’ve just made some fantastic joke. “Well, there is that, I suppose, but there’s a little bit more to it.” They drain their teacup and set it down, their smile gone long and sly, chin ducked a little as they avoid meeting your eyes directly. You admire the shadows of their eyelashes on their flushed cheeks, the dip of their collarbones, the curves of their breasts too sharp for comparisons to a half moon. If you had to fish for a simile, you’d compare them to heavy flower buds instead, the kind that look about to unfurl any day now: Tapered to the nipple, but soft, an unspoken generosity to their slim and subtle curves. Your gaze lingers on Chara’s nipples—the dusky brownish pink is puckered and hard in a way that makes you want to trace over and over them with your fingertips until they moan.

Your train of thought is interrupted by Chara’s hand reaching out, slender artful fingers with their old faded scars tipping your chin up. You let them guide you, dutifully looking them in the eyes.

When you do, your breath catches: Their pupils are wide and dilated, their face growing ever redder. For all of that, when they speak, their voice is very calm. “This is where I used to go at night to touch myself, before we started having sex.”

The look on your face must be pretty good, because Chara giggles. “Come on, Asriel,” they say. “I admit I may not be the greatest person, but for all my sins, I certainly wasn’t going to masturbate to you while you were sleeping _right there._ That seems to me both horribly gauche and an uncomfortable breach of boundaries.”

“I—I know, I feel the same way, it’s just—” It’s just a lot of things, chief among them that now you’ve started picturing them doing it here, and what blood isn’t rushing to your face is flooding to your cock, but Chara has eyes to see that for themself, and their smile has gone downright predatory. So you clear your throat. “When I had to, um, step outside back then, I didn’t have the guts to jack off in our actual living quarters. I always snuck off a lot farther—the baths or past the garden.”

Chara shrugs a little, nodding good-naturedly as if to say _of course, of course;_ the motion makes their breasts move in a way that’s incredibly distracting. “Believe me, I would have liked to get further away too. But my mobility issues were worse in a lot of ways back before I started exercising, and I was a little afraid of getting stuck somewhere and becoming unable to return on my own. That was not a conversation I wanted to have with your parents; ergo, I waited until I was very sure you all were asleep and hid in the corner, where I knew I would be able to hear anyone coming in time to save myself the embarrassment.”

Almost involuntarily, you turn to look at said corner, at the space presently occupied by the wastebin. The worst part is that you can very clearly picture them huddled there with one hand down the front of their pants and the other up under their shirt—back when you were still trying to figure out each other’s bodies, you demonstrated for each other what you already knew you liked, and your mind transposes those memories over your imaginings.

Chara takes a step away from the counter, their body heat all but setting you on fire. You’re fully erect and trembling now, the night air chilly along the damp shaft, and if they come any closer the head of your cock is going to poke them in the stomach. Your fur is standing on end; you can’t take your eyes off them.

“I spent a lot of time thinking about you here,” they say, face tilted up, voice hushed, eyes half-shuttered as they stare up at you. It’s all you can do to keep breathing. “About your hands, your mouth, your cock.” They go up on tiptoe and kiss you once, the briefest brush of soft human lips and tongue, barely a taste. “And this is our home now, ours and no one else’s.” They punctuate this with another kiss. Your cock thumps and twitches between you, dowsing; you can feel precome starting to bead and run at the tip of the head. “No one will come to interrupt us.” Yet another kiss. You’re supposed to be the able-bodied one, with strong healthy flexible joints and dependable muscles, but your knees feel like jelly, your legs suddenly too weak to support your weight. “There’s no one stopping us from doing what we like, if we want to.”

Quivering all over, you dip your head to kiss them back, whining into their mouth. Chara’s hands rise to frame your face, combing gently through your fur. You have to pull away after a few moments—it doesn’t feel like you’re taking in enough air just breathing through your nose; if you’re not gasping, you might faint. “Chara,” you say, “this is amazing and I’m—I’m game, but my gosh, where is all this coming from?”

They look up at you, would-be guileless. “We’re newlyweds,” they remind you. “We’re allowed—expected, even—to be enthusiastic.”

“Well, then,” you say, and let them lead you back down to press your mouth to theirs.

Chara’s hands are gentle on your face and shoulders, fingers feathering through your mane and your fur, but their breathing is rough and their kisses are aggressive. They trace your teeth with their tongue and suck on yours until you moan; they punctuate their breaths with little whimpers, and when you get your arms around their waist and pull them in closer, they shudder and sigh when your cock presses against their belly, wetly skimming over their soft human skin.

They’re so—so vocal, and so _loud._ This is new: Always before, over the decade or so you’ve been sleeping together, they tended to swallow down the tiny noises they made unless they were about to come or they already had. Some of that, you know, is self-consciousness; they’re always freer with their voice when they’re relaxed. But more of it had to have been that your parents were just rooms away, the spells your mother had used to soundproof the wall between your bedroom and hers notwithstanding.

You’re alone now, really and truly _alone,_ and you can do whatever you want with this space, within reason. Wonder thrills through you like wine, bubbly in your blood.

The sound that Chara makes when you ease out of the kiss is raw and needy, and it makes everything between your legs throb with want. God, but you want to hitch them up in your arms and just slip inside them. “How d’you want to do this?” you ask instead, breathless.

Chara blinks slowly, appearing to think about it. Their mouth, their cheeks, their breasts and their belly are flushed red with arousal, and their gaze is vague, distant. There’s a shiny smear of your precome over their stomach where your cock grazed their skin. “Maybe we should move a bit further down,” they suggest at last. “So that no one’s in danger of putting an elbow in the tea or getting splashed.”

You shudder. “Yeah, that… doesn’t sound too sexy, does it.”

They giggle. “Setting me on the counter likely would not be very hygienic, either,” they say. “We would have to clean it, and we probably won’t want to right away.”

“That’s true,” you say.

That leaves the wall, the floor, or one of you leaning back against the counter. Only one of those is a good option, in your opinion. Any position where you’re on top of Chara or they’re wedged between you and whatever you’re both supported against, you have to be very careful and slow; you’re so much bigger and heavier, and their joints are a mess. You don’t want to put too much stress on their hips and wind up hurting them with your enthusiasm. The floor will leave you without a back rest and will be cold on Chara’s legs and your behind—not appealing.

“Why not just find a less dangerous place to lean on the counter while I make sure you’re ready?” you suggest. “We can switch when you are—I’ll lean and hold you up, I won’t have to worry about banging my horns on anything that way. Does that sound okay?”

Chara appears to think about this for a moment; then they smile, their expression going soft as they reach out to stroke your face. Their fingertips’ steady movements are gentle, a comfort. “Definitely,” they tell you.

The shuffle to a bit of counter unoccupied by teapots and cups, and with plenty of elbow room for both Chara and you, goes like a slightly ungainly dance—your hands on their waist and upper back, theirs on your arms, them constantly looking over their shoulder as you both move. Once you’re at a spot that feels more appropriate, they relax, reaching up to guide you down to them. Instead of pressing your mouth to theirs, you nuzzle their cheek, bending at the waist so that you can drop your head to trail little nibbles and kisses down the side of their neck and over their clavicle. Chara’s breath hitches, and they exhale lightly, marking your descent in shuddery gasps and sighs.

You love the soft delicate noises they’re making, but you also want them to make ones that are distinctly _in_ delicate, so you sweep your hands up their sides and roll your palms gently over their breasts. Chara lets their head fall back and moans, quivering; you follow the shift of their collarbone as they breathe with your tongue and swirl the pads of your thumbs up over their nipples. They moan again, throatier this time, arms cinched tight over your shoulders. They don’t grip your fur: Their hands are in fists where they lay on your back, fingers pressed firmly to their own palms. You wouldn’t mind if they did grab you a little, but they have a mortal terror of having their hair pulled, and they extend the same courtesy that they expect from you. They’ve said before how afraid they are that they’ll instinctively mimic everything they absorbed when they were an impressionable kid.

Honestly, you doubt that they would. They’re too gentle; too careful. But having rules like this for themself makes them feel better, and it’s not hurting anyone. Poking at their boundaries _would_ hurt them, so you’ve resolved to let them be, and allow them to continue to take things at their own pace.

Instead of shrugging Chara’s arms away, you bend your knees to sink lower, sliding your hands down to their hips as you lick and nuzzle their breasts (their voice goes high and warbly as you close your mouth briefly over one nipple). Then lower—you lick the smear of your precome off Chara’s belly to make them squeak—until you’re crouched on your haunches before them, and their hands are splayed loose over your horns.

Gently, you slip your hand behind their left calf; seeing what you intend, they lift their foot off the ground and let you hook their knee over your shoulder. They remove their hands from your horns, leaning their arms and upper back against the counter; even with their weight rested back, they continue to watch you, chin nearly resting on their chest.

Slowly, deliberately, holding their gaze until the last moment, you drop your own chin so that you’re staring at their open folds in front of your face.

With Chara’s legs splayed like this, you don’t have to reach up to hold their outer folds apart, which is good; this is a tricky angle for you to get your fingers in while still being careful of your claws, your hands being as big as they are and Chara being so small. They’re visibly wet—drenched, in fact—and they’re still open and relaxed from the hours you spent having sex earlier. They’ll probably be able to take you easily and painlessly even like this, but there’s no harm in a little extra prep work—especially when both of you enjoy it so much.

You flick your tongue out to trace the length of them gently, and Chara whines aloud, twitching briefly; the muscles of their legs tense and then relax. You trace them again, slower, one end of their inner folds to the other, lingering on their clit. The scent of their sweat is thick and enticing in your nose, and its taste is heavy on your tongue, mingled with their slightly sweeter and much stickier fluids. You open them with slow licks, eyes half-closed, feeling them shudder over you, their breath stuttering. The warmth of them is incredible—heat rolls off them like their insides are somehow molten. You shift your legs so that you’ll be able to adjust your angle more smoothly, and close enough now that their pubes tickle the tip of your nose, you suck at their clit quickly and then slip the tip of your tongue inside them.

Chara’s soft cries raise in pitch abruptly, gaining volume and urgency. Their hands clench in the air on either side of their waist, and their hips undulate slightly, seeking your mouth. You close your eyes and breathe them in, swamped in their scent and the taste that makes your balls throb. There’s faint notes of salt and bitterness to their wetness now, traces of your own come from earlier, and you ache to fill them up again. You let yourself whimper a little, and they shudder, pushing into you.

They accept you neatly and easily as you lick into them, walls shifting gently at the attentions of your long thin tongue. When the floor of your mouth starts to ache from pushing too intently into them, you pull back and lap at their clit for a while, then go back to stroking the full length of their folds. Chara moans, low and frustrated, their leg squeezing your shoulder; you switch back to teasing at the mouth of their vulva again, and continue to alternate.

Within minutes their breathing goes deep and rough, their vulnerable flesh pulsing under your mouth; they sob and thrust into your face once as they come, muscles jerking and trembling. You try to flatten out your tongue against them as best you can, bringing them down with long rhythmic strokes. Their breathing eases; their squirming stops pressing them into your mouth and starts shifting their most sensitive spots away, so you sit slowly back. The short fur at the tip of your muzzle is soaked through with their fluids, and you lick at it idly. They shift and slide their knee off your shoulder to rest their foot back on the tile, legs visibly wobbling.

You straighten up and begin to push yourself back onto your feet just as Chara begins to sink; you wrap your arms around their waist and bear them up with you, shifting gracefully so that you’re leaning on the counter and they on you. Their body sags against yours, their eyes shuttered so that their lashes brush their cheeks, but you’ve barely opened your mouth to ask them if they’d rather go back to sleep when their hand traces down your chest and the heavy curve of your stomach to find a grip on your cock, making you gasp. Chara smirks into your chest without opening their eyes, giving your shaft a few lazy strokes. Their fingertips flutter back and forth as their arm pumps up and down, and you groan, thrusting into the crescent of their hand.

Finally Chara opens their eyes, and it’s to tilt their chin up to look at you, trapping you in place with the vivid red of their irises. “I’m ready whenever you are,” they say, voice reduced to a rough croak that sends fresh precome beading at the tip of you. “I want you inside me now, Ree; I’ve wanted that here for so damn long.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay,” you say, and you reach to shift one arm to support them at the backs of their thighs, leaving the other at the small of their back. They reach up to press their open palms flat to your shoulders, holding on, and you hitch them up to hold them against your middle while you adjust your stance. You spread your feet wide enough to brace your weight properly, testing with one and then the other with pads and claws to make sure you won’t slide. Only then do you rest your bulk back against the counter, and only then do you shift your arms to lower Chara.

The head of your cock rubs up against them and slips—you’re both too wet for you to enter them properly without assistance—making both of you gasp. Chara says “hold on” breathlessly, and tightens the grip of their right hand to stabilize themself as they reach down between you with their left, gripping the middle of your shaft and holding you steady.

You watch their face intently, waiting, and they look back up to you and nod. You nod back to them, and lower them slowly.

Your cock sinks into Chara smoothly and without resistance; they arch back and breathe out once, hard, their eyes fluttering shut and their parted lips curved in a faint smile. Their body welcomes you, slick hot walls enveloping you as deep as you can go, still tight almost to the point of discomfort purely because of your difference in size, but relaxed and pliant as they are, it’s not painful.

Still, you have to check. “You okay?” you gasp out.

Chara moans long and low, a deep throaty sound that makes your balls cramp and your cock twitch inside them. They seem to contract and relax just a little as they breathe. _“Yes.”_

You stretch your neck out a little to nuzzle their cheek, making them giggle. The movement makes their walls ripple, and you’re sure that if you just bucked your hips up powerfully enough, you’d come right here and now.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, you’re not quite sure anymore, this position won’t allow the vigorous movements you both tend to fall into when Chara’s riding you. If you fuck up into them too hard you’ll unbalance the both of you, and Chara doesn’t have the leverage to swing their hips very far—it’s hard for them to spread their legs wide enough to encircle your waist in the first place, and the counter’s in the way, besides. So you’re holding them at an angle, their knees and calves bracketing your thighs.

Apparently satisfied that you won’t slip apart, Chara puts their left hand back on your right shoulder. “Ready?” they ask you.

You’re pretty sure that even if you try to speak all that will come out is a moan, so you nod, and roll your hips up experimentally.

The thrusts you can manage like this are shallow ones—you can’t move more than a few inches in and out—but the slow rake of their wet folds up and down your shaft makes up for that, and Chara sways their hips back and forth, grinding in place. The muscles in their lower belly ripple visibly as they work to clench and relax against you in wet gentle flutters; glancing up at their face shows you that they’re worrying their lower lip between their teeth in concentration, chin raised to expose the clean lines of their throat. Their hair sways around their shoulders, light glinting off the deep red and the silver shot all through it.

You’re glad, suddenly, of the limitations of this position. If you were getting any more stimulation than you are right now, you wouldn’t be able to hold back the pleasure building up in you at all.

Chara’s hips are beginning to shiver, their breath taking on a desperate edge; you hunch in to march kisses up the cords of their neck, then drop down to lick at the tops of their breasts. They arch their back to bow their body towards you, whining. You can only bury so much of yourself inside them, but your shaft is damp with your mingled precome all the way down to the sheath.

“Ree,” they moan. The swing of their hips is brief and fevered, more rapid than your thrusts into them. A little incongruously, you’re reminded of a carousel you saw in one of Mettaton’s human movies, the way that the steady pistoning of the painted animals up and down was faster than the turn of the entire contraption. “Ree, I can feel your heartbeat in me.”

You swallow. Your cock is twitching with your pulse, your balls tight with the urge to ejaculate. “I can feel yours too,” you sigh, and it’s true; it seems to surround you, thrumming through the whole of your skin, making your fur prickle in waves.

Chara whines low in their throat; you nuzzle at their collarbones to discover that their whole chest is humming with it. “Are you close?”

You suck in a breath and then exhale, shuddery; they shiver at the sensation of your breath on their skin, tightening on you and then relaxing. “Yes,” you tell them, voice gone hoarse. “Are you?”

They whine again. “Not close enough,” they say. They swallow, their throat working visibly, and you tighten the muscles in your own stomach to bear your mounting arousal. “Ree—help me, I want—” their breath hitches, interrupting them, and they open their eyes to stare straight into yours. “I want to come with you.”

Unable to manage words, you just nod quickly.

Chara takes their left hand off your shoulder, sliding it down their own body to cup themself, fingertips stretched to stroke their folds around you as they roll the top edge of their palm over their clit. You shift your arms to better balance their weight, leaning in to kiss and nuzzle lightly at their face and chest. It’s a stretch—you have to all but plant your forehead on their right shoulder—but pressing close, you’re able to flick your tongue out far enough to lap at their breast. Your licks are sloppy, and you miss the nipple most of the time, but their little whines and moans get more and more urgent as you tease them, punctuated by sharp pleased gasps and breathy cries of your nickname like they’re begging.

Without warning the angle inside Chara changes, and they clamp down on you, their silky wet walls pulling you in deeper. They tighten, tighten, squirm in your arms and shout your name, and then they’re curling their legs up against the sides of your stomach and whipping their hips in shallow desperate thrusts, breath coming in sharp sobs.

You squeeze your eyes shut, lean your upper body back over the counter, and pump up into their perfect heat. Orgasm rolls over you in waves, and Chara gives a pleased-sounding little yelp as you come inside them.

They’re wincing, oversensitive, as your hips shudder through your last involuntary thrusts, so as soon as you feel yourself go soft, you shift your arms to support their shoulders and the backs of their knees and scoop them up to your chest. (They gasp a little when you slide out of them, but they fling their arms around your neck and snuggle into your fur happily enough.)

It’s quiet for a good while, and slowly your knees stop trembling so badly.

“Thank you,” Chara says, muffled into your collarbone. You turn your head and glance down at them. Their eyes are closed, hair plastered to their sweaty face; they’re all but glowing. If humans could purr, you bet they would be right now, and you allow yourself to be pleased by this. “It feels like I’ve been wanting to do that for half my life now.”

You smooch their temple. “Well, golly,” you say. “’M glad. But, uh—I hope you don’t mean to break in _every_ room in the house like this. I’m not sure I’m up to having sex in Mom’s reading chair, that’s always going to be her reading chair in my head. It’d be weird.”

Chara starts to giggle. “Not _every_ room, no, and I wasn’t thinking of that chair,” they say. “In front of the fireplace with a few cushions, now—that might be something to consider at a later date.” They yawn. “But for now—tea to keep us hydrated and then bed, I think.”

You chuckle, face heating up as you nuzzle the crown of their head. “That works for me.”

Chara yawns again. “Love you,” they mumble, indistinct.

“I love you too,” you tell them.

They smile and nestle closer. In less than a minute, their breathing is deep and even.

You cradle their warm weight carefully as you return to your room, settling them gently on the mattress before you get comfortable yourself.

Your heart is so full of hope and love, it could burst.


End file.
